Rub The Wrong Way


I frequently get emails from massage “professionals” inviting me to sample their wares, which only serves to reinforce my suspicions about how unsecured my online persona is.


Today this one showed up and I have to say, even though he seems attractive, I would be reluctant to hire a body worker who occasionally takes it in his head to lie around in horse pastures.


There is also this one, who advertises “Massage, Mud & Yoga.”

Whatever happened to happy endings?

10 responses »

  1. Body worker, is that what they’re calling themselves nowadays? I’d stay well away from the yoga man ‘mud’ we all know what that entails, the sort of goings-on enjoyed by foreign sex perverts on the internet.


      • Tell your ‘friend’ to type ‘coprophagia’, ‘Pig sex’ or ‘glass top coffee table fun’ in his search engine and see what poops up, erm pops up.


  2. A good massage is a wonderful thing. This sort of thing, however – dubious in the extreme. Remind me some time to tell you about the shocking goings-on once upon a time at the Cairo Four Seasons.

    “Bodyworker” always sounds to me like the title of a long-forgotten dance song, possibly from Miquel Brown or the like, of the sort that we always referred to as DFS – “Disco Fag Shit.” We made fun of those songs, but they always got us dancing.


  3. I get a good massage once a season for years. Nothing like it. Never had a happy ending till last year. I was in Asbury Park at a boutique hotel, who also had a spa. A legit spa. Imagine my surprise when the massage was done, the guy says Can I take care of this? Never happened before this, who was I to argue?


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